


it's awfully hard to stop

by rhllors



Series: demon daughter [2]
Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 15:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhllors/pseuds/rhllors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Tell me a story</i> he whispers into her ear, his lips lingering there, still smudged with blood and all manner of sin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's awfully hard to stop

Nick cannot remember very much about his wife.

He cannot remember the curve of her jaw, the sound of her voice, or the exact shade of green her eyes were. He does not remember their anniversary or what her face looked like when he proposed.

He can remember the strong line of Hel's jaw, the purr in her voice, the deep brown of her eyes. He remembers the day they met with horrendous clarity and what her face looked like just after she had ripped out a throat.

Cutler drowns in memories of her, and hates every single moment.

(that's what he tells himself, anyway)

 

 

Herrick tells her that every vampire needs an heir. Hel had laughed, deep and hard, not only at Herrick and his ridiculous delusions of grandeur, but also at the idea that she would need anyone. 

She is Lady Hel, hell on earth. She has walked and fucked and killed her way across this wretched rock for half a millennia on her own, she is older than the earth in the soil. No man is safe in her path, beggar nor king.

All are the same. All naught but flesh and veins and hormones in the brain.

She is happy to remind herself this.

 

 

The sheet barely covers her. It is saturated with the blood of their last kill, leaving bloody smears on her exposed skin, and clashes violently the almost translucent nature of their skin. Nick's legs are tangled in hers, his arm resting on her stomach, his head leaning on her shoulder, his breath causing the tiny hairs on the back her neck to rise up.

 _Tell me a story_ he whispers into her ear, his lips lingering there, still smudged with blood and all manner of sin.

 _Once--once, I was captured._ she replies, and suddenly it is 1699, and Snow has fucked off to God knows where, and she is travelling alone through Spain. She arrives in Santiago de Compostella, and is feeding on the blood of some rather anaemic pilgrims, before one of them pulls out a cross and her eyes burn with blood. They take her to the Mother Superior of a nearby convent.

 _They baptised me in Holy Water, until I thought my skin was so burnt it was going to peel away, and then the Nuns placed me in a cell, decorated with crosses._ It had been cold and dark, and she had laid in a puddle of her own blood and vomit for two months before she could even move in front of the crosses. After three months, she had resorted to feeding on the rats that scurried around the corners of her cell when her tormentors weren't looking.

Cutler is enraptured--but he is always enraptured with everything Hel does--and his hands begin to draw swirling shapes on her lower stomach. _How_ he mumbles into her hair, _did you get out of that mess?_

The girl was young, and a ringlet one single golden ringlet had escaped from her wimple. She stammered when she entered her own personal hell, looking to the floor, and avoiding eye contact with the creature of darkness they held in the bowls of their holy place. As she came closer to pass her the little food and water she was allowed, Hel noticed when the girl stood infront of the cross the throbbing pain in her head relented, giving her peace, even for a second. _I tore out a Nun's throat and draped her body over mine, and left that fucking place._ she continued, moving her head back into Cutler's neck. _Obviously, I killed the rest of them after that. Vengeance is mine._

His hands drifted lower and she couldn't bite back a moan.

 

 

During her first clean month, they have to tie her to a chair. She is strong, but the bonds are stronger.

Hel screams and shouts and rages, hurling the most horrendous of insults towards Leo and Pearl, swearing that she will _tear our their delicate throats_ and _eat their hearts_. The lights break as Pearl spirits herself away, shocked about the brutality displayed from the woman who could barely walk into a room without straightening the carpet.

Leo is Leo, and he simply watches.

(when the worst is over he talks to her about _routine_ )

 

Hel feeds Cutler his wife's blood and watches the way his pupils dilate, how his eyes linger where the hollow of her neck is exposed from her crimson silk shirt, and thinks that possibly--maybe--Herrick might have been onto something.

 

 

"How's your pet, Hel?" smirks Fergus, dark eyes following her as she returns from picking up the bread for Leo. "I didn't know bestiality was your thing?"

She ignores him. If there is one thing Fergus loves, its her attention. Ni--Cutler always said that if there was one thing Fergus loved more than himself, it was his Lady. Cutler was biased, obviously, and Hel had rather enjoyed their ridiculous power games and supposed "fight for her affection". That war had been won years ago, in a police cell.

"Bette some dog than near old Nicky, eh? He's been quite lost since you fucked off." he's laughing now, and Cutler's words become a mantra,

_ignore him ignore him ignore him ignore him ignore him ignore him_

"He cried, y'know. Thinks you're _proper dead_."

Hel snarls, fangs extending and her eyes turning black, and shoves Fergus hard against the wall, her fingers flexing around his oesophagus. "Shut your fucking mouth, Fergus or I will tear out your tongue with my teeth."

Fergus laughs again, and she squeezes, watching his face turn a unique shade of puce. Kneeing him between the legs, she walks out of alley, and can hear him shout, "Nice you see you're still in there _my Lady_. I thought you'd come soft."

Her hands shake so hard she drops her bread.

(she stacks her furniture up against the wall and sobs)

 

 

Cutler is twirling with Daisy, whilst Hel and Ivan watch from the bar.

There is no jealousy or hushed words between them--there is a clear understanding, Ivan and Daisy will always return to each other, and Nick is Hel's. They make a good group, and it is generally agreed that, if left lone for too long, Daisy and Cutler would bring the world to its knees.

"Operation Barbarossa, then?" she inquires at him--as if Ivan didn't know the intricate dealings within the Soviet government.

"Indeed. Of course, this will loose Hitler's war." he replies, his eyes carefully watching as his wife whoops, her legs wrapped around Cutler's waist, a small smile gracing his face, "The Führer is a fool if he thinks he can take Russia from St Petersberg to Vladivostok, Siberia to Mongolia before winter comes. Millions will die, I'm sure of it, and victory shall be grasped from the jaws of defeat."

"I'll drink to that," Hel replies, motioning towards the bartender for a second round of shots. They click glasses, and the burn in her throat is refreshing, even from the roughest Vodka found in Argentina.

 

 

 _Never leave me_ Nick whispers, worshipping his new Gods--blood and Hel.

 _Never._ she replies, and thinks of Anya, Nadia, Alexander, Jack, Isabelle, Nikolaj--

Hel may not be a ghost, but she is haunted all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> My love, of course, goes to Lauren and Ellis, along with everyone who boomarked/reviewed/kudos'd part i. The third and final part should be posted in the next week!


End file.
